


pretending we're made of steel, living on a battlefield

by morelenmir



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst and Feels, Gen, Post-Episode: s02e19-20 Twilight of the Apprentice, Sith???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:38:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7446232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morelenmir/pseuds/morelenmir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Force <i>bends</i> and a pulse of Dark energy shivers across the ship, sending icy shards into him. A startled breath catches in his throat and Kanan lifts his head in alarm.</p><p>Ezra.</p><p>
  <i>No.</i>
</p><p>He turns swiftly, hands stretched forward to touch feather-light over the Ghost’s walls.</p><p>
  <i>Ezra, what have you done?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	pretending we're made of steel, living on a battlefield

**Author's Note:**

> Watched the Rebels S2 finale. Fell asleep thinking sad things, went to work thinking sad things, come home and wrote thing.
> 
> Mazel tov to [balter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/balter/pseuds/balter) for beta reading and laughing at my feels.

Kanan can as easily sense the concerns of the Ghost’s crew as if they were all speaking aloud. Up in the cockpit, Zeb’s worry hangs in the air, as heavy as his own aroma. He can feel the Lasat’s desire to speak with Hera, ask her _what are we going to do_ , and his simultaneous wariness of being overheard by the blinded Kanan. Hera is eddies of grief and grim determination, holding to her relieved happiness at their return. Sabine watches him from the doorway of her bunkroom; her regard is a hot prickle between his shoulder blades. The Mandalorian radiates a tumult of violent anger, fear, and a bright joy that crashes against his admittedly ragged shields.

As soon as he was cleared from the base’s medbay, Ezra had locked himself in his shared bunkroom. His presence in the Force is small, drawn tight and close. He has been largely nonverbal, emotions shuttered and exhausted. Kanan isn’t surprised. Before the Ghost lifted off from the base, with a quiet word Hera had bade the others to give Ezra space and time. For a being that lacks Force-sensitivity, she is remarkably insightful; he learned long ago to trust her. Chopper still frequently rolled past the closed door with a plaintive warble, yet didn’t override the controls and enter.

It is…good to spacebound again. He appreciated being able to retreat to the base and receive better medical care than he could have on the Ghost, but he had found it draining to be among everyone. Almost all the sentients on base had known Ahsoka, had been pulled out of the fire by the resourceful Togruta. The collective anguish, dismay, and anger constantly beat at him. Kanan was dimly surprised by how bitter Rex’s renewed grief tasted; he can’t stop replaying events in his mind, trying to picture a way where they all could have escaped, a way to return the former Commander to her Captain.

When mention of a short supply run was made, he was mutely grateful that Hera instantly took it up. It’s a bantha milk run, so simple any member of the crew could do it blindfolded and cuffed, and it’s a chance to get _away._ They had made ready to leave in short order, Ezra receiving the news with scarcely more than a curt murmur. On base the boy’s trauma and wild emotions had shaken the very foundations of Kanan’s shields; he hadn’t taken the news of who had delivered the blow to his Master’s eyes well. It was almost a relief when he chose to sequester himself away on the Ghost.

Now, however, concern is again working its way through Kanan. While he is proud of how Ezra’s shielding skills have progressed, it is beyond strange to sense so little from him. They have been out for over a day and not only has Ezra not emerged, his shields are still drawn so tight Kanan cannot get a grasp on how his padawan is faring.

The inquiry he had sent moments ago through their fledging bond still unanswered, Kanan decides to continue alone down to the hold to meditate. He is about to reach for the ladder that he senses before him when the Force _bends._

A pulse of Dark energy shivers across the ship, sending icy shards into him. A startled breath catches in his throat and Kanan lifts his head in alarm.

Ezra.

_No._

He turns swiftly, hands stretched forward to touch feather-light over the Ghost’s walls. Five long strides to the doorway and…

The Force continues to ripple, Dark spreading cobwebs over the familiar Light. Shuttered as it is, the presence of the boy within glows a muted blue, shot through with molten veins of deep gold. A brilliant, painful cluster of Darkness hovers so close to Ezra, to Kanan’s senses it seems as though they are fused. He forces himself to take a deep breath, and then palms the control pad.

The door slides open.

Hesitation, wariness. Ezra’s focus slowly shifts from the pulsating holocron floating above his palm. His gaze burns so much hotter than Sabine’s intent stare does.

Patience. He waits silently in the doorway, one steady hand resting on the frame. Ezra’s hair makes a soft sound brushing over his collar when he dips his head and subsequently lowers his shields. The bond quivers and then holds steady as he allows his Master to reach out to him.

The Dark Side moves over Kanan and brings with it understanding. He lowers his head in a slow nod, sending back calmness, acceptance of Ezra’s choice.

Confusion and hushed fear twist through the bond in response.

Kanan can feel the Light within him, the side of the Force that has been nurtured since he was a youngling, repulsed by what Ezra is emitting. It is aberrant, it is wrong, and yet. And yet, it is Ezra. He will do anything for his padawan, _has_ done anything. As he ever has, Kanan reaches into the Force, listens to it.

Ezra continues to mutely stare at him, withdrawing from their bond.

He makes his decision.

At all costs, his charge must survive. This is the will of the Force.

Kanan steps into the bunkroom, Force guiding him to sit at Ezra’s side. Oh so slowly words come to him. He speaks, and his mouth is dry.

“What do you need me to do, Ezra?”

He can feel the boy hunch in on himself, one arm protectively crossing his chest. Humming apprehension threads through Ezra, a part of the boy that inwardly shies away when he thinks about placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Kanan instead keeps his hands folded in his lap, pictures a deep well within him, spreading ripples of calmness and solidity. Permanence. Softly, he tries again.

“Could you teach me how to do that?”

The Sith holocron flares a wild crimson in his mind’s eye and Ezra’s spread fingers twitch.

“I… I don’t think I should.”

 _You are a Jedi_ runs between them. _My Master._

His voice is even softer, as gentle as moonsong. “I don’t want you to do this alone, Ezra.”

“It was my fault. What happened. All of it.” His voice is drawn and choked. Despair and shame wind grey tendrils around his padawan, obscuring his blue warmth. He can tell that Ezra is worrying his lower lip with his teeth.

Now he carefully grasps Ezra’s shoulder, waits until he feels the downcast eyes glance back to him. “No, Ezra. It wasn’t.”

“Kanan, I--” He is cut off by Kanan pulling him close into a crooked hug.

“It’s all right,” he murmurs over the boy’s head. “We still have each other.”

There’s a hitching breath, and another, drawn against his tunic. Again a wave of Dark energy floods out from Ezra, but this time it is warm. Kanan feels like bones he didn’t know were frozen are thawing in the face of the boy’s simple passion. He ducks his head, instinct telling him it is safe to rest his cheek on the crown of Ezra’s head. The bandage over his face shifts, draws taut over the bridge of his nose. For the first time it strikes him that he can never again close his eyes in sorrow; all that remains are charred sockets unable to weep.

He can’t even kriffing cry if he wishes to.

Kanan holds his shaking padawan tight, as much to comfort Ezra as to reassure himself.

“We can get through anything together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please picture tiny Ezra with his ridiculous penchant for the Living Force tapping into the Dark Side, learning its ways, and Kanan both learning from him and countering with more Jedi teachings.
> 
> y e s s s


End file.
